Original
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Formatting is weird on mobile, I’ll change this to text when I go home.
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Love is that brute that killed Caesar, that unfaithful disciple, that Buddhist, Shi Ming Yi, caught for conspiracy: a liar, a cheat – human. (cont.) It is the counting of flower-petals, the Tinder chats, the Grindr photos: words spoken from one spouse to another and another other. Love: it is the sore lack of space
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“It’s a saying they have, that a man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only
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The morning sun intrudes past the boundary of the curtain – even if I were to avoid it, it will still rise again, unlike you. I, too, become gradually unlike you: I don’t watch the television, I don’t go out on Friday nights. I don’t write poetry for fun anymore, amongst other trivial matters. It’s
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i. hors d’oeuvres le rien Nothing, naught, nil, zilch – we stopped believing in waste. Instead we light a candle and fill the table with light. ii. entrée orgie de légumes achetés en magasin Vegetarian thing on vegetarian thing on vegetarian thing. Served with a side of rice and a garnish of ash. iii. dessert
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3 Notebooks 1. The world breaks everyone but some are strong at the broken places- like my father. He never took himself into account. Always watched and listened, but never forgot anything. Never losing to the rain, nor to the wind – such a person, I want to become. 2. “I want to live
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Months – many I have, remaining. They trickle through my fingers as shards, not sand. It fades: it commits itself to memories, it lingers. Surprise – the Singaporean man who, like the haze, comes again uninvited. He wades: against the current, grains in his pocket. Newsflash – I’m reaching the point where another fall is
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Dip your toes before you dive into the water. Yes, this world will burn you. It will set you alight with desire and boil your blood. Feel the heat run through your veins. It only ever rises, higher, and higher. Can you feel it? That frantic drumbeat, the code of a man set aflame, each
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a brain that needs to be scrubbed clean. burdens- they stand, idly, on my shoulders. now we’re all waiting for relief. an ache, 3mm above my heart but nowhere close enough to even matter. something hangs on the tongue. the taste of rust spreads throughout and the air: it is heavy. silence raps my eardrums
ugly stage 